


A toy soldier

by Void_of_nox



Category: No Straight Roads (Video Game)
Genre: Cyborg Angst, Existential Angst, Gen, My First Fanfic, Pre-Canon, Returning Home, minor death mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26581573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Void_of_nox/pseuds/Void_of_nox
Summary: ██████ or the now nicknamed J returns home to his old toy shop for the first time after having served and changed so much.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 95





	A toy soldier

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever posted here, hope you enjoy it!

Somewhere tucked away in Vinyl city on the edge of the Akusuka district, was an old toy shop. It has been standing abandoned for more than 15 years... It had seen so many smiles and happy children once a long time ago, but the signs weren't reliable anymore. All the toys in the window have been covered in dust, the air is still, and the paint and fabric have faded on the dolls and toy soldiers in the display.

Different, but still the same, two days ago it had been found again. The bell of the door rang once more. Has the shop's owner returned? That question is a lot more complicated then it seems. Because if they truly were the same owner that the shop once had, that bell would have rung once more in the time after they arrived, or at least, they would have made their way downstairs because after all, humans need to eat and drink.

Now up the stairs lays someone or something in bed. It would call itself a man for convenience, but it’s not quite sure how true that is anymore. The alarm rings and for a split second, the sound of shocked breathing picks up as panic rages through the man. As if it had just been attacked by things that aren't there anymore, from distant dreams or memories.

He looks around, scared. Sitting up, he holds his chest and scans the room, calming down only as nothing comes up. It grips the fabric of a shirt that no longer fits…

[Bleep] [Bleep] [Bleep]

No hostiles detected, he’s awaiting orders. Slowly coming to his, he senses grips the fabric of his bed. It seemed his fellow teammates and soldiers had moved out.

[Bleep] [Bleep] [Bleep]

No ones there… are his quarters are different…? Has he been moved for maintenance? No the room... it’s empty as it dawns on him once again, as it has many times since he’s arrived, that he’s truly alone.

He grips the fabric of his bed and static softly pours out from his speakers, and he pulls his leg closer for a moment… looking outside the window he can see the leaves of an old tree sway, and sunlight trickle in. A relaxing sight for nearly anyone….

[Bleep] [Bleep] [Bleep] [Bleep] [Bleep] [Bleep]

It’s too silent… Still no orders… He knows he’s not gonna get them, but it feels wrong. It feels wrong just to do anything in the deafening silence…. Why is it so silent…. It grips its blanket and the static and bleeping of his scanner seems to soften as they decide to do something else. He moves to sit on the side of the bed, and unplugs his charging cable, and stands up.

He feels the cold of his metal joints and finds his balance and tries to ground himself. He starts to hum, and the rumbling of his speaker helps… Despite it having been three months, the lack of feeling on legs you used to walk around is weird. He opens the window, letting some air in.

He breathes the smell of the old leaves taking a moment to appreciate the colors of the leaves changing. He used to love autumn… he grips his monitor remembering he can’t smell anything anymore, and his hands shake and he looks at them…. He looks at its hands… his hands? Are they his…

It doesn’t remember what they even used to look like. It walks to the mirror that used to belong to the human that owned this shop. A young man that liked to make children smile, and used his craftsmanship to make special companions and toys that never left memories of those kids.

He wondered what he was like, that kindness, the smiles of those kids.

It looks at a flat dark green monitor with a circle on it, radar circling around it softly… Its eyes and face. It’s existence… It wondered what the toymaker was like, for it can’t really even remember seeing how much it changed.

Every time it thinks of what it was all it remembers it pain, a bang, a bright light. Experiments the toymaker didn’t know it signed up for, Surgery, more pain… and the feeling of nothing…

Every time it thinks of children it’s hard to think of good memories to do with them from what he’s seen.

Every time it thinks of toys, all it thinks about is the ones It's seen in empty or crumpled buildings, trampled by people fleeing.

Every time it thinks of what it is now he… he shakes, he can’t look himself in the eyes- screen... It IT IT… 

[Bleep] [Bleep] [Bleep]

There’s a sound of breaking glass… he’s sitting down on the floor… mirror shards are everywhere, and loud, deafening static pours out of his speakers. It didn’t even feel that… after a moment of sitting there curled up, it gets up and walks downstairs.

He feels weird being there… He feels like a stranger-like he didn’t belong there. Despite everything being untouched, J feels like he’s intruding as he takes in the atmosphere and looks around the abandoned workshop… It almost has the urge to take left and go to the kitchen, to make a cup of coffee and some breakfast to eat. Like it wants to play pretend…

Maybe it does… like something of a distant memory… maybe it will indulge itself for a little bit. It looks at the workshop, inspecting some of the left toys and holds what seems to be a woman holding a violin in a blue dress… it has a string and he pulls it… a tune starts playing that seems familiar, and he starts to hum along, trying desperately to belong.

He sits down at the dusty workshop seat and looks at a little toy that never was finished. A soldier. All it needed was some paint. A face, something he could understand. He got to work, and grabbed his supplies and paint, though some needed to be thrown away as they were dried out. J is kind of surprised that no one broke in during all those years. He sits down. 

There’s something about the toy soldier that he can’t place as he puts it in the stand with some struggle, and mixes the paint. His fingers aren't the same as the toymaker… Stronger, but they were never made for a person like this… he dips a brush in the paint and starts with the hair. His hands shake but he’s managing… barely…

He’s not terrible, maybe just needs practice… all that was left was the face... The eyes were always the hardest part. Its metal hands shake more and more... He can’t do th-

[Bleep]

Someone walked past the shop, making him turn his head to the street reflectively. The brush snaps in his fingers, and the face becomes a black mess. Instinctively he reaches for the carving knife laying to his left, panicking… before standing down and realising he’s safe… He drops what's left of the brush and stares into empty space...

He sees the irony now.

He’s a toy soldier as well… with no face and identity… how ironic that the toy shop owner has become a toy…

Perhaps it’s fitting somehow.

**Author's Note:**

> Might write some more about J finding himself and building his kids but it depends. also the song he's humming Daisy Bell


End file.
